


The Last Of Us

by Apiaristic, LPSunnyBunny



Category: Homestuck, The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Last of Us, Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apiaristic/pseuds/Apiaristic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPSunnyBunny/pseuds/LPSunnyBunny
Summary: In the wake of a zombie apocalypse, James Egbert is a hardened man. A chance for redemption comes in the form of one teenage boy- Dave Strider. On a cross-country journey to possibly end the plague and start healing humanity, Dad finds that there's more than one type of redemption.Exactly what is says on the tin. It's a The Last Of Us AU and you better buckle up, because this is going tohurt.
Relationships: Dad Egbert/Dave Strider
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Last Of Us

The phone ringing is what wakes him up first. It’s not the distant sound of sirens, or the fact that he isn’t tucked properly under the covers, but the dull ringing of the lanfline that sits on John Egberts bedside table. His dad works late, sometimes, and early, calling him to let his son know when he’s going to be home, or if he isn’t.

Bedhead like a rats nest, John sits up and yawns. He fumbles looking for his glasses, reaching and slapping haphazardly at his bedside for them.

Earlier that night, he’d given his father a watch for his birthday. A gift that he’d spent all his allowance and savings up on, and one that has made his father grin so wide John had felt like the best son ever.  
The clock on his bedside ticks over. 12;01. 12;02.

John snatches up the phone.

“Uh- Hello?”

“ _John? I need you to get your dad on the phone-”_

There’s an explosion. Someone is yelling. John frowns and sits up on the edge of his bed confused.

“Uncle D?”

  
  


  
“There’s no time, you have to get your dad-”

The line cuts out with an uncomfortable beep, beep, beep.

He drags himself up out of bed and rubs his eyes as he sets his phone down on the bedside again. “What the hell.” John mutters sleepily, his sleep-pants dragging on the ground as he steps out into the hallway.

“Dad?” John calls to the dark house, making down the hallway. “Daddy?”

The stairs are dimly lit by the lamppost outside and the light in the kitchen. Holding carefully to the rail, John picks his way down, feet cold on the mahogany.

Something slams into a window with a dull thud. John’s heart stops, and he freezes, eyes snapping to the back door, but nothing is there.

Police cars race past the house. The neighborhood isn’t particularly  _bad_ , so that’s a surprise, but what is more surprising is the fact that his fathers phone sits abandoned on the kitchen counter, vibrating.

Tentatively, John picks it up. The screen flashes and blinks with missed calls and messages, most- no, all, from his uncle.  
Frowning, he turns it off and sets it down, and then makes for the lounge. His dad falls asleep on the sofa sometimes- so maybe-

He hears the sliding door to the backyard open, and freezes.

  
  


  
James Egbert, father to one very beloved and wonderful son, has no idea how everything went to shit so badly in such little time.

He doesn’t even want to think about what’s happening out there, wishes that he could find his son and bundle them both up together in the basement and hide away from the world and the chaos that is overtaking the streets, but he doesn’t get that luxury.

He’s hurrying home, pulling open the sliding door and rushing to his study when he sees John- his son looks pale and uneasy, but not terrified. That’s fine. That’s better than the alternative, that means he made it home in time.

“John, there you are.” He says, relieved. “Are you alright? Did anyone come in here?”

He hurries to his desk and pulls open a drawer that he hasn’t touched in a long time. A familiar lockbox is drawn out of it’s depths and he retrieves his keys, unlocking it and lifting a pistol out, it’s weight comfortingly familiar in his hands.

He glances back at John and worry pierces through his heart.

“Stay over there, son, don’t go near the doors.” He says, as he starts to slot bullets into one of the magazines. “Just. Stay away from them.”

  
  


John watches his father rush inside, bewildered. He looks to the door, back to his dad, worried, almost frantic. He wrings his hands. Did anyone come in- what? No, of course not.

“Wh- I’m fine, nobody- Nobody came in.” He replies, adhering to his fathers advice and wary of the doors. He shuffles towards the center of the room, towards his father, to peek at what his father is doing.

“Dad? What’s going on?”  
He asks, eyes darting to the doors and back towards his father again, anxious, confused. His heart hammers in his chest, and he thinks about Uncle D- His dads brother, about what’s going on. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

“Who’s them?”

John moves to stand beside his dad, looking at the gun in his hands, at the shaky way he loads it.

Something is very, very wrong.

  
  


  
James slots a magazine into the gun. “The Coopers.” He says. “They’re sick- and there’s something awfully wrong with them.”

_It’s not just the Coopers, either._ James things grimly.

_SLAM_

James brings the gun up and points it at the sliding door as a person slams into it. Their shirt is stained with dark rust, blood dripping from their mouth. The man’s movements are erratic, slamming into the sliding door over and over.

“Erik!” James says, grabbing John and tugging him back so that he’s got himself between John and the crazed man. “Erik, I’m warning you-”

Their neighbor Erik slams through the glass, shattering it. He collapses for a moment, James tracking his fall.

“Erik, get out-”

Erik scrambles to his feet and lunges at them.

James pulls the trigger and the bullet goes right between Erik’s vacantly crazed eyes. The man collapses backwards.

“John, come on-” James tugs John backwards, away from the body. “Come on, son-” He pulls John away and into the kitchen, turning to face him.

“Listen to me.” James says, his free hand cupping the back of John’s neck. “There is something very very bad going on right now- and we have to get out of here, okay? I need you to listen and do everything I tell you. Can you do that for me?”

  
  


  
John blinks. Sick? What kind of sick?

He’s about to ask when someone slams into the door and the question is yanked from his throat in the form of a yelp. He jumps, staring with wide eyes, and staggers as his Dad yanks him back.

“Da-” He starts, cut off by his father’s stern voice. He grabs at his dads shirt for something to hold onto, anything, until he can get off this ride- please, can he get off the ride.

Theres a gunshot, and it startles a squeal from John, stumbling after his father in a daze, not quite paying attention.

“You shot him…” He mumbles with wide eyes, staring at the dead body staining their living room floor- at his _neighbor_ , dead on the floor. His dad says something, but he still isn’t listening. “I saw him this morning, I-”

His dad’s hand is warm and comforting on the back of his neck. John finds his fathers eyes and he can hear him properly now. He has to do what his dad says, listen- yeah- yeah. He can do that. John nods absent-mindedly and then more sure of himself, grabbing worriedly at his dads shirt- he doesn’t want him to go too far. “Yeah- Yeah, okay. Okay.”

  
  


  
John agrees and that’s one little pebble off of James’ mountain of worry. He kisses John’s forehead before looking over as light floods into their home through the front windows- headlights.

“Damien!” He says, relieved, and takes John’s hand. “Come on, son, let’s go- we’re going to try and get out of the city.”

He pulls John through the house and they hurry out the front door to where James’ brother Damien is parked and waiting.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” James says in relief as he ushers John to the car.

  
  


  
Damien is, usually, a pillar of perfection. Golden hair slicked back and pulled into the shortest of ponytails at the back, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up his forearms- a businessman before anything else. Tonight, though, John notices the grim look on his face even beneath his shades, the thin line his lips are pulled into.

“Where the hell have y’been?” He drawls, sounding stern and frustrated as he appears from the other side of the truck, swinging his keys around one finger and then catching them, watching John stumble after his father and try to keep up, hopping up into the back of one of his uncles less-lavish cars- a ute, actually. “You have any idea what’s goin’ on out there?”

He pauses, then, eyes wide behind his shades as his hand hovers over the doorhandle to the drivers side seat, staring at his brother.  
“Holy shit. You got blood all over you.”

  
  


  
“Yeah, I certainly have some idea.” James says grimly, opening the door to the backseat. “Come on, John, get in.”

He helps John into the backseat, throwing a careless, “don’t worry- it isn’t mine,” back at Damien.

The two of them haven’t always been on the  _best_ of terms, but everything else seems insignificant now, in the face of the world going mad.

James shuts the door after John and slides into the passenger seat. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  
  


  
“They’re sayin’ it’s some kind of parasite.” Damien kicks the car into gear and slides a hand around the back of James’ seat to pull out of the drive as he talks, chewing his bottom lip as he shifts gear.

“How you goin’, kiddo?” He asks John, glancing into the backseat as John hovers in the middle, looking out the front dash as they drive down the street.

“Fine.” John replies, heart hammering in his chest. He’s about to ask to turn the radio on, but Damien beats him to it. All they hear is static, however, and D curses under his breath. “Fuck. No radio, no cell service. Everything is fuckin’ out.”

  
  


  
James presses his mouth together into a flat line, but unlike his brother, he refuses to curse. A proper gentleman has to keep his cool in all situations.

“That’s concerning.” He murmurs, then shakes his head. “Let’s just focus on getting out of the city. You heard anything from officials about where to go?”

Up ahead, red and blue lights go speeding past as police cars fly down a cross street. James watches them go with a worried expression.

  
  


  
“Roadblocks on the highway. No way into Travis county- Maybe route 71.” Damien replies, turning opposite the road the police took, following over the bridge, signs pointing them where to go.

“How many people are dead?” John pipes up, holding onto the back of his dads chair, eyes darting around worriedly.

“Heaps.” D replies, gripping the steering wheel tight, staring out the front at the road. “Found this one couple in their house, all ripped apart, mangled and like, _growing_ somethin,’-”

  
  


  
“Damien.” James cuts him off swiftly. “He doesn’t need to hear that.”

James stares out the windows intently, not quite sure what he’s looking for, but he’s still gripping his gun in his hand, an urgency beating under his skin. They come up on a wreck of cars- four or five of them all piled up on the side of the road.

“Lord.” James murmurs. “John, don’t look.”

He doesn’t want John seeing more than he absolutely has to.

He exhales slowly as they keep going. “You hear anything about how widespread this is?”

  
  


  
“Just in the cities.” D replies, after dutifully shutting his mouth. John looks disgusted and afraid in the rearview mirror, staring out the windows and then back towards his father when he’s told not to stare at the mess.

“So we’re okay, John. We’ll be fine.”

“The coopers worked in the city, right?” John asks, voice shaking as he looks from his dad to his uncle, back again.

There’s someone on the side of the road, waving their arms and begging them to stop. D frowns. “I’m going to pull over for 'em.”

  
  


  
“They did, John.” James says, reaching back and finding John’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

James hesitates, at the sight of the people on the side of the road. “Don’t stop.” He says. “Someone else will come along- we’ve got John to think about.”

It aches, it goes against every moral code he has- but the Coopers were fine, too- and then they became… that.

James can’t risk it. He can’t risk his boy.

  
  


  
John hums and stares back through the windshield, and then frowns.

“They have a kid, James-” Damien retorts in almost disbelief- the car slows, but then speeds up again as distaste and guilt wells in his gut. The people call for them to stop- but they whiz past and John frowns.

“We should’a stopped.” He mutters.

  
  


  
James just shakes his head, discomfort and unease curdling in his gut. He doesn’t say anything for a bit as they continue to drive, the darkness only broken by the lights of an ambulance as it flies past, by the glow of their headlights on the road.

And then, they go over a hill and there’s just a wash of red as miles of cars wait at a standstill to merge onto the freeway.

“Oh, this is bad.” James says softly. They sit for a moment, James’ mind whirling.

“We could backtrack-” he starts, only to stop as the person in front of them gets out of their car and starts shouting at the line of cars in frustration.

_Yes, because shouting always helps._ James thinks to himself, a flicker of irritation in his gut. That flicker is doused immediately as a man in scrubs scrambles up the back and right for the shouting man- and tackles him, teeth sinking into his skin. They go to the ground and then another stumbles up the bank and lunges into the car.

James feels cold. “Damien. Drive.” He says. When Damien doesn’t move, he grabs his shoulder and jostles him a little. " _Damien._ Get us out of here!"

  
  


  
In the backseat, John’s gut twists. His hair is still tousled with sleep, and he tugs on the front of his ghostbusters sleep-shirt out of anxiety. He wonders if his online friends are okay- the guys he used to talk to on the computer. Are they okay? Is the same thing happening to them? IT’s suffocating, the not knowing, and he twists his shirt, pushes his glasses up his nose as they begin to slip.

Stop, reevaluate. They’re fine. They’ll be fine. This is a concentrated thing, and once the government has it under control, it’ll be better. They just have to get away for a while, and when they come home, John can check his messages and find out that everyone is just as fine as he expected.

Startled by his fathers yelling, John stares out the front window in horror.

Another man in a hospital gown climbs into the car and dips down. Someone screams and blood spatters the back window.

“Holy shit-” Damien sputters, kicking the car into gear and panicking, heart hammering in his chest as one of the two men leaves the now-corpse on the road and starts making way for their car. He curses and John yelps as the car jolts and spins around, Damien furiously changing gears. “Holy shit, what the fuck just happened, what the fuck, did you see that, did you fucking see that?” He sputters to James, running a hand through his hair, stressed as he tries desperately to figure out where to turn. “Goddamn.”

John isn’t aware of his fathers telling D to turn, the car shocking him out of his thoughts again. People litter the street and he gapes, voice wavering.

“Come on, people, move,” Damien frets, trying to slowly push through the crowd. A camper-van blocks the roadway while people in the street scream and run.

“What are they running from?” John asks, shakily, blue eyes blown wide.

  
  


  
“It’s okay, John-” James reaches back and grabs John’s hand, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Damien, you can’t stop.”

Even as he says it, he knows Damien is trying his best, is trying to push through the frantic people, but they  _can’t_ stop, have to keep going.

“There-” James says as the crowd thins for a moment. Damien pushes forwards through it and they clear the camper. The other side of the street is blessedly empty and James drops John’s hand with a little sigh of relief as they start to put on speed again.

John’s cry reaches his ear moments before the car hits them, and then they’re rolling and glass is shattering and his vision goes black.

  
  


  
John wakes up first.  
Or- he thinks he does. There’s so much noise everywhere around him he doesn’t know how he passed out at all.

Head. Hurts.

Blinking his eyes open, the sound of screaming jars him, and he can feel his heart shaking and palpitating. Bare, tan forearms scrape on the ground as he struggles to sit up in the back seat of the car- the mangled car. There’s flames outside, smoke inside, broken glass-

“Dad-” He gasps out, struggling not to panic as pain shoots up his leg and he screws his eyes shut, hair a mess of rubble and dust. His glasses are gone- but he would think them broken anyway, considering the mess around. He peers over the- back? Of the seat, eyes widening suddenly.

“Daddy-” John repeats frantic, really, truly scared for the first time since he was a toddler as he reaches and shakes his father’s shoulder, trapped.

  
  


  
James returns to conciousness slowly- and then all at once as everything rushes in.

_Daddy-_

“John-” James murmurs, reaching for the hand touching him and fumbling to take it and squeeze. His head is hurting, pounding, he must have hit it- “It’ll be okay, son-”

Vision returns next and he takes in the state of everything- the car, on it’s side, with James still buckled in. Outside, screaming and people running as  _other_ people lunge and grab and bite-

James gives John’s hand another squeeze and gently pushes it away. “Get back.” He unbuckles himself, shifting and turning to plant his feet against the cracked windshield. He reaches up and grabs the roof handle-

It’s a couple of hard, slamming kicks and then the window is shattering and James can press forwards and slide out of the car. He rises to his feet, swaying just a tiny bit from the ache in his head, and has to take a moment to look at the situation.

It’s a full blown panic, people running every way. Snarling in the air-

James brings his hands up and intercepts a man lunging at him, their limbs locking as the bloodied, feral-looking man snarls and growls incoherently. James is slammed against the car as the man fights to get closer and closer, teeth snapping, as James grunts and fights to push him off.

  
  


  
John groans, pain up his leg when he shifts away. Two loud thunks, and a smash, and the noise outside is louder.

He’s scared. He’s so scared.

Scrambling over the chair as best he can towards the outside, he sees his dad- grabbed by another man, another man who’s going to hurt him, going to bite him-

“DADDY-!”

_THUNK._

Damien roars, smashing the guy assaulting James over the skull with a brick. The man stumbles but doesn’t go down, so he kicks him and then slams the brick down through his skull. Red and marred flesh stains the pavement and Damien grabs his brother by the arm.

“You okay?” He asks frantically, one of the lenses of his shades missing, eyes worried, blood shattered across his cheek. “We gotta go.”

  
  


  
Damien saves his ass, bashing the man over the head with a brick, and James is left panting, heart pounding. Damien’s words snap him out of his mini panic and he nods.

“John, it’s okay, I’ve got you- come on son-” He says, crouching down next to the windshield and holding a hand out to John, helping him out of the car.

His heart stutters as John stumbles. James catches him, steadying him. “John? What’s wrong?”

  
  


  
John stumbles, his leg shooting firey pain up his shin. Broken, probably, but he isn’t thinking about that. His Dad, is his dad-

He’s okay. James is okay when he bends over to help him up. More pain, a question.

“Hurts-” He hisses out, grit teeth as he teeters and limps, bare feet on shattered glass. “My leg hurts.”

  
  


  
James doesn’t wait to ask how bad. John’s hurt- so James needs to carry him because they need to get the fuck out of here. James reaches back and grabs his handgun out from his waistband and passes it off to Damien.

“You need to protect us.” James says, as he leans down and scoops John up into his arms. “We have to get out of here- hold on close to me, John. It’ll be okay- you just hold tight to dad.”

He cradles John in his arms as tight as he can as they start to move. John’s a growing boy- but James would carry him forever just to keep him safe and damn how badly his arms would hurt. John is his son and James will do  _anything_ for him.

The masses of panicking people move and shift around them, knocking into James. Snarling behind him has him dropping John’s legs and lashing out with a punch that slams into a man’s jaw, sending the feral person staggering backwards and to the ground. James wordlessly hefts John back into his arms and keeps moving, a grimly determined set to his shoulders. There’s no time for panic, only focus and  _getting the hell out of here_ .

“Don’t look, son.” James says as there’s the screeching of tires ahead and cars collide, wincing a little at the shattering of glass. Damien is forging a path ahead of them and James can only follow in his wake. He knows where Damien is leading them- but the road up ahead of them is filled with cars and people and James slows to a stop as a flaming car slowly rolls down the cross street…

and explodes into a fireball that plumes and sends heat roaring down the street as it catches and starts to spread.

“Shit.” James hisses. They can’t go that way- there’s too many of them.

  
  


  
John keeps his face buried in his fathers neck as he’s carried, whimpering in pain and fear. People are screaming and running everywhere, there’s smoke and fire- gunshots. Damien is shooting sporadically, keeping people back.

When he’s dropped, John yelps and sobs out, clutching to his dad as pain shoots up his bad leg. Damien catches the man with a bullet and John is back in his dads arms.

“Those people are on fire…-” John whispers in terrified awe as people run from a burning building, a car crash, so much screaming.

So much fire. He’s so fucking terrified, tears begin to streak down his face.

“This way-” Damien yells, pointing to an alleyway off the side of the main chaotic street. He kicks the wire fence down and ushers John and James through, and they’re running again, before the sound of people snarling and hitting the fence beside them as they move.

“Hurry up, Hurry up,-” Damien huffs, kicking open the back door to a niche little bar. Once John is through with his dad, Damien shoulder-barges the door to hold it closed, leaning his weight against it.

“Go, just go!” He calls as arms and hands and snarling, horrible people scream at the door-

John sobs and clings tighter to his father. He’s hurting, he’s so fucking terrified, shaking in James’ arms as Damien urges them to go.

  
  


  
James can only hold John as close as he can as they run through the alleyway- but then Damien is telling him to  _go_ , to leave him behind as he holds the door against the  _things_ that people have become.

“Damien-” John backs up, away from the door, from his brother, leaving his brother to what is very likely going to be his _death-_

But he has John. He has to get his son, his boy out of here. John’s hurt and  _needs him_ .

James locks eyes with Damien for one, brief, heart-stopping moment.

" _Don’t die._ " He orders- and then he’s turning and running from the bar, out into a mostly quiet street- the distant sounds of fire and screams are still audible, and there’s a man being attacked down the street- but James can’t stop for a moment. He runs across the street and takes them down a steep bank, away from the street and along a dirt path that will take them to the bridge- the bridge that will get them across the river, will get them out of the city.

“Don’t you worry, John.” James murmurs, slowing to a jog. “Your uncle’s a smart man- he’ll be fine. We’ll see him on the other side of the bridge, alright? We just gotta make it there- he’ll catch up with us.”

He hefts John a little higher in his arms, casting a glance at John’s leg- he can’t see anything visibly breaking the skin, so that’s better than an open break.

He presses a swift kiss into John’s hair. His heart is beating hard in his chest, but he can’t let John see, can’t let John know how terrified James is for them. “You’ll see- he’s too flashy to do anything other than stubbornly survive, you know?” He chuckles a little as they start climbing the bank up towards the bridge.

James’ blood runs cold as he hears snarling pick up behind them- but then there’s a spray of gunfire and James is ducking, holding John close, and the noises cut out.

Light sweeps over them as James looks up- and there’s a man in military gear, looking at them.

  
  


  
“Thank goodness.” James murmurs, straightening up. “It’s okay, son, we’re safe.” James says softly to John, then takes a step towards the soldier.

“We need help, my son-”

“Stop!”

James adjusts his grip on John and presses on, “it’s his leg, I think it’s broken-”

"I said  _stop!_ " The soldier levels his gun at them and James freezes in place, a fearful knot in his stomach.

“We’re not sick.” James says carefully, taking a slow step back, watching as the soldier reaches for his radio.

“Got a couple of civilians in the outer perimeter.” The soldier reports, his gun still trained on the two of them. “Please advise.”

“It’s okay.” James murmurs to John, cradling him close, even as fear mounts in his stomach, spreads through his chest like weeds.

The next words drop a stone into his stomach.

“Sir, there’s a little boy.”

No.

They wouldn’t. Would they?

James watches the light wobble slightly as the soldier’s grip on his gun shifts. Watches the shift of his shoulders.

“But… yes, sir.” The solider raises his gun. James moves-

but not fast enough.

John lets out a cry of pain as bullets fly past them, a couple of them clipping James as they go off the side of the path and roll down the hill, John falling from his arms and tumbling away. James lands on his stomach, the wind knocked from him as burning pain throbs through his arms where bullets grazed him.

The soldier approaches as James rolls over onto his back, James squinting up at the light, raising a hand as if to ward him off.

“Please.” James is not a man who begs, but he begs now. “Not my son.”

The soldier hesitates.

  
  


  
_BANG, BANG!_

The soldier doubles and collapses to the side as Damien makes it to the scene, gun raised. He’s holding his side like he might be hurt, but he’s otherwise fine as he glances from James over to, to-

John.

John is.

He’s laying on his back in the weeds and dirt, making choked-off noises and little whimpers. There’s blood in his mouth and blood on his hands where they’re pressed to his stomach, and he feels dizzy, so dizzy, staring up at the stars.

Dad?

Where’s his dad?

He’s so scared. He’s so fucking scared. His stomach burns, he feels suddenly overwhelmingly tired and the pain in his leg is nothing to this new one in his stomach. He’s shaking, gasping for breath in short wheezes as both hands claw at his bloodied stomach.

He croaks.

" _Da-d-D-ad-dy-"_

  
  


  
James can’t spare Damien a single glance- he’s scrabbling through the dirt, to his feet, ignoring all the pain in his body, the only thing is the crying of his child, of his  _son-_

“John, John-” James gasps, dropping to his knees next to John, his heart pounding, aching, _screaming_ in his chest at the sight of red blooming across John’s stomach. James knows- he _knows_ , he knows he knows gut wounds are fast, they’re fast- he can’t-

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, dad’s here-” James presses a hand over John’s stomach, tugging him into his lap, holding him. “It’s okay, we’re gonna get you to the hospital, it’s okay, stay with me, son-”

_Please. Please, god, not my son, not my son, my boy- please, not him, not him-_

  
  


  
When his dad pulls him into his arms, pain blossoms and and its so much worse at the shift, a terrible sound ripped from Johns throat as a hand shoots out to grab James’ shirt. He doesn’t want to be alone, its okay, his dad is here. His dad has him.

John whimpers a noise and coughs, and then he chokes on blood and lets it trickle from the corner of his mouth. He’s so tired, he’s so tired, his stomach hurts and his leg hurts, his dad holding him-

That’s okay. His dad holding him is okay. Its warm. He’s safe. Maybe he’ll close his eyes for a few minutes.

He goes still and his eyes roll to look at his dad’s face.

Then they slip shut, and never open again.

  
  


  
“John-” James breathes, desperate. His son is hurting, is in pain, is-

Is-

John is still in his arms.

“Come on, son, it’s okay,” James begs, curling in, pressing their foreheads together. "Please- open your eyes, John, dad’s here, I’m here son- it’s going to be okay, please- _please, John-_ "

John is still.

_ No, no- no no, not my boy, not my son, he’s all I have, my son, please, god- please, take me instead, please- god  **please** - _

“Don’t do this to me.” James whispers, cradling John.

He’s still warm.

“Please, John. Please.”

" _Please._ "

The noise grief makes cannot be described. It’s terrible and ugly and heart-wrenching, raw and wounded. It’s the sound of a heart tearing in two, shattered to pieces. The sound of a parent losing a child-

Something too terrible to imagine.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


James holds his son.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


\--- The number of confirmed deaths has passed two hundred. The Governor has called a state of emergency... ---  
\--- There were hundreds and hundreds of bodies lining the streets. ---  
\--- Panic spread worldwide after a leaked report from the World Health Organization showed that the latest vaccine tests have failed. ---  
\--- ...with the bureaucrats out of power we can finally take the necessary steps to... ---  
\--- Los Angeles is now the latest city to be placed under martial law. All residents are required to report to their designated quarantine- ---  
\--- Riots have continued for a third consecutive day and winter rations are at an all time low. ---  
\--- A group calling themselves the Fireflies have claimed responsibility for both attacks. ---  
\--- Their public charter calls for the return of all branches of government. ---  
\--- Demonstrations broke out following the execution of six more alleged Fireflies ---

You can still rise with us.  
Remember, when you're lost in the darkness...  
Look for the light.  
Believe in the Fireflies.

**Author's Note:**

> Dad is played by [@LPSunnyBunny](http://www.twitter.com/LPSunnyBunny).  
> Dave is played by Apiaristic.


End file.
